Danny Jung* from Second Grade

after Frank O’Hara

 

In line for chicken, I heard

your voice behind me

you said we were late for work

though with our flexible schedules

tardiness is a hoot

still we were in such a hurry

I almost didn’t look when

my phone chirped and

dan jung wanted: armed robbery of a chick-fil-a

flashed across my screen

there’s no Chick-fil‐A in Palo Alto

not a single outlet in San Francisco

I tried Chick-fil-A once at DEN, pocketed

two extra packets of Polynesian sauce

but I didn’t stick it up o Danny Jung

you put me in a headlock during recess

and called me chicken legs 

*not his real name

Kenton smiles brightly at the camera. He has glasses and short hair. Behind him is a tree.

Kenton K. Yee’s recent poems appear (or will soon) in Plume Poetry, Threepenny, RHINO, Indianapolis, TAB, Constellations, Terrain, Grain, Valpariaso Poetry, I-70, The Ecopoetry Anthology: Volume II, and Rattle, among others. He writes from Northern California.